Rewrite of Chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
by Misty Lion
Summary: At the end of Chapter 16 of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry steps into the last room, where he sees someone he wasn't expecting. In this version, it's not Quirrell! It's Dumbledore's evil twin. The confrontation is highly suspenseful and the ending even more so. My story can add on more chapters because it's not an ending. Hopefully I'll post the rest soon. Enjoy!


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

**THE LOST ONE**

It was Dumbledore.

"_Dumbledore?" _gasped Harry.

Dumbledore tossed his silver beard back and chuckled cruelly, while Harry was frozen in shock and disbelief. He tried to back away but his legs wouldn't budge.

The headmaster grew silent, wiping away at mirthful tears. "Ah, something from the good old days. Comparisons to my meddlesome twin. How irritating."

Harry stood there, confusion clouding his thoughts. Then, suddenly, the meaning struck him hard. It was all he could do to keep himself from toppling to the ground. "But—but Dumbledore doesn't have a brother! I heard him telling Ron!"

"Liar," the old man snarled. "Filthy liars, the lot of them. I can see why the Lord wants them dead—especially you, Harry Potter," he added silkily. "How long I've waited for my first murder victim. Who better than the Boy Who Lived?"

Dread and fear slowly coursed through Harry's body. He instinctively felt for his wand but groped only empty air. Panicked, Harry frantically pat down his robe, hoping for any sign of a lump, anything at all—

"Looking for this, Harry Potter?"

Harry whirled around and there was Dumbledore's brother, grinning malevolently and holding up what looked like a thin stick in his pale hand.

_No, _Harry thought despairingly.

"My master wants this," the evil wizard remarked, twirling Harry's wand in a hypnotic motion. "He wants to see the wand so similar to his, used by his...arch nemesis. Yes. And destroy it, perhaps. Or use it in conjunction with his. So much raw power! And I shall share with him, share the glory—"

"No!" Harry couldn't believe he had managed to blurt this out. "No, you don't understand. Vol—He Who Must Not Be Named will never let you. In his eyes, you'll always be inferior to him." Harry's voice came out stronger. "He'll just use you a-and dispose of you! But if you come with me to Dumbledore, explain to him why you went to the dark side—"

The old man reared back his hand and slapped Harry. He reeled back, thudding painfully to the ground as green stars undulated in his vision.

"Serves you right," the henchman muttered, tapping Harry's stinging cheek sharply with the wand. "Get up, boy. I still need to finish you off, once I find the Stone."

Despite the pounding in his head, Harry was instantly alert. He grimaced as he rubbed his swelling temple. Needless to say, his attacker had a giant hand. "You mean the Sorcerer's Stone?" he inquired. "It's here?"

"Not _here _here, brat," the other spat. "Otherwise I'd have gotten it a long time ago and ended your pathetic life. The only reason you're alive is because you're going to help me find it."

"NEVER!" roared Harry. "I'd rather die."

For a split second, the old man looked taken aback. Harry was sure he'd imagined it, though, because almost immediately his voice restored its coldness and indifference. "How touching. The most famous boy in the wizarding world is completely willing to sacrifice his hard-earned life for a rock. Next time remind me to bring tissues, if you're still around."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Dumbledore's dangerous twin was flat-out lying to him.

"I know you know what it really is!" Harry cried. "It holds the Elixir of Life. That's why you're here. You want to give it to Lord Voldemort. You want him to return!"

"Of course," the old man replied, unfazed. Suddenly, he whipped his own wand out of his blood-colored robe, pointed it at Harry's clenched fists, and muttered a few words under his breath. Harry barely had time to register this before ice-cold water shot through the air and drenched him from head to toe.

It was as if someone had plunged him into the Arctic Ocean. Harry yelped and threw his arms around his torso, accidently punching himself in the elbow. He felt it tingling, and through the agony, noticed the sound of woodpeckers attacking a tree. It took him a moment to realize it was his own teeth chattering.

"Enough drama," the old man interrupted, keeping his wand trained on Harry. "Surely you'd like some more?"

Harry shook his head weakly.

He nodded approvingly. "That's what I thought. I had to clean you, boy, because it is _you _who will search this chamber, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, for the Stone."

"And if I refuse?" Harry countered.

His tormentor shrugged. "I know a Killing Spell, too. And I'm not afraid to use it."

Harry fell silent as the urgency of the situation sank in. He wondered if he could hold out against the other, just enough until Dumbledore came—

_No chance, _Harry thought bitterly. _He can murder me instantly. And he's Dumbledore's _brother!_ What if even Dumbledore falls at his hands?_

It was then he had an idea to maximize his chance of survival. Well, at least his time of survival.

Long enough for him to acquire the Stone.

"Who are you?" Harry asked tentatively. "I might have heard Dumbledore mention you once."

The old man emitted a short bark of a laugh. "Dumbledore? Never. That fool has completely forgotten I exist."

Harry pushed on. "Not in _public_—more like private. He was talking to Professor—he told her he should have been born a Gemini. He was joking, but he still remembers you."

He carefully watched the other's face for a reaction. Sure enough, the old man's upper lip tightened. Very faintly, but it was still something.

"I think he's still fond of you," Harry said quietly. "It isn't his fault you betrayed him."

Then Harry recalled what had happened to him the last time he had spoken this aloud. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the next lash.

It didn't come. The older wizard was staring off into space, a wistful expression on his face. His knuckles gleamed white against his dark robe. Harry found himself mesmerized by it. What were those stains? And then he noticed its perfect resemblance to blood. Harry shuddered involuntarily. His dinner was threatening to make a reappearance.

Dumbledore's twin rested his gaze on Harry. He looked away, unable to stare into those icy eyes.

"I wasn't much to begin with," the old man started, his eyes not leaving Harry. Harry hardly dared to breathe as the mysterious man recounted his story.

"Albus and I were born the exact same day. Identical twins, though our personalities were anything but. Albus was always the...popular one. He was sociable, funny, handsome—he stole many girls from me. It was infuriating. He also got great grades, which made the professors fall to their knees, too. I was more reserved. The friends I had in my first few years eventually left me for Albus's stupid clique. I was completely alone. Even my parents didn't favor me, because I barely pulled through with grades and almost never talked to them. That's how depressed I was.

"But then, after my last year at Hogwarts, light shone on my bleak life. Supporters of my master had noticed how much I hated my twin, especially after he won Head Boy of Hogwarts and his girlfriend won Head Girl. They met with me discreetly, sharing information about the Lord's magnificent plots. I soon decided they were my only true family, who cared about me and included me in everything.

"Not long after, I met Lord Voldemort himself. He helped me in every possible way and told me our side was so much more powerful than Albus's side. He allowed me to rise in power, hire assassins to take out his enemies one by one. He understood my squeamishness regarding killing at first but soon started pushing me to get over it. How right he was. I was too cowardly for my own good. Still, I renounced Dumbie and my family and permanently joined my master. We traveled together, the Lord always drilling me on new Dark magic curses. What an avid student I was then. I still am. And now I will prove myself worthy by slaying you."

Dead silence. Harry tried to absorb this new information but it just jumbled in his head. There was only one question he could think to ask. "What is your name?"

Voldemort's lackey sighed.

"My real name must remain a secret to those who are not serving Lord Voldemort, with the exception of everyone who already know. The identity I picked when I joined him is Subla."

Harry immediately knew. "That's _Albus_ spelled backwards."

"Yes," Subla growled, spinning Harry's wand menacingly. "Want to make something of it?"

Terrified, Harry shook his head.

"I chose that name because I am the opposite of Albus. It sounds right. Although many people who consorted with me call me the Lost One. I have disappeared completely from Dumbledore's family. They do not know me anymore. Therefore I am the Lost One."

Harry blinked.

"Enough about me," Subla said, wrapping his long index finger in his dark gray beard. "Harry Potter, _where is the Stone?"_

"I don't know!" Harry protested. "And I am not going to let you find it."

Subla's green eyes gleamed. "Very well. You prefer to face Lord Voldemort over me. Why not? He is busy, but I can make an exception."

Trepidation took over Harry. "No."

"But you are too difficult," Subla said smoothly. Then he called out. "Lord? I need your help!"

"Bring him to me." a voice hissed out of the shadows.

Harry willed himself not to faint as Subla tugged him toward the speaker. He recognized the voice from his darkest nightmares.

It was Voldemort himself.


End file.
